


Because The Night Belongs To Us

by Proskenion



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene, Non-Graphic Smut, Nudity, Romance, Song Inspired, Tears, very slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 20:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20663237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proskenion/pseuds/Proskenion
Summary: "You can stay at my place if you'd like?"Or what I think might have happened that night, at Crowley's place.





	Because The Night Belongs To Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [She Knows It's For Her](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=She+Knows+It%27s+For+Her).

> HULLOOO ! 
> 
> Back again teehee. 
> 
> So, I was listening at Because the Night by Patti Smith, as I often do, and it suddenly stroke like an Ineffable Husbands song, describe that moment they shared at Crowley's place after Armaggedon has been avoided. There are references to the song in the text, mainly towards the end. 
> 
> I really hope you'll like it. Don't hesitate to give me your thoughts on it !

Crowley unlocked the door of his flat and opened it, letting Aziraphale come in first. While he was locking the door behind him, he heard the angel say : 

‘So this is where you live ?’ 

‘Yeah… Don’t you like it ?’

‘I don’t know, I… Well, I was about to say it wasn’t what I expected, but I don’t know what I expected, actually.’

Crowley didn’t answer. Instead, he rose an eyebrow, and smirked. Aziraphale looked at him, and mumbled some apology. They longed the corridor to the hall where all the plants were. Aziraphale exclaimed :

‘Oooooh, your plants ! Oh dear, look at you,’ he babbled, poking one of the leaf, ‘you’re so pretty…’

‘DON’T !’

Aziraphale turned to Crowley, baffled. Crowley mumbled :

‘I mean you’re not going to start talking to the plants, are you ?’ 

He laughed, a bit too oddly to make it feel like he was making fun of his friend, and Aziraphale understood there was something fishy going on there. Getting away from the plants, he asked :

‘So, we agree that this is the best thing to do, right ?’ 

‘Yup. I mean, choose your faces carefully ? What else could it be.’

‘Sure, sure. Well, then…’

‘A drink ?’ 

Crowley disappeared behind a door. Seeing he wasn’t coming back, Aziraphale followed. He entered a large room with a beautiful desk, an even more beautiful chair, a television and, to Aziraphale’s surprise – and delight – the original draft of Mona Lisa. And signed. Crowley was standing by the desk, a bottle of scotch in his hand. He had trown his glasses away somewhere. He invited Aziraphale to sit on the chair and poured scoth in two very fancy glasses.

‘No,’ the angel said, ‘I’d rather stand. Like you.’

‘As you wish,’ Crowley said, handing him one of the glasses. 

Aziraphale thanked him. They clinked glasses and drank in one go. 

‘Aaaah,’ Aziraphale sighed. ‘I surely needed this.’

‘You’re telling me !’

He immediately poured some more scotch in their glasses, and in a beat, they were quite tipsy. 

‘What a day,’ Aziraphale said, collapsing on the chair, after all. 

‘Yeah, I mean… We did well, didn’t we ?’ 

‘Yup. Tickety-boo.’

‘You have to stop saying that.’

‘Why ?’

‘I… Nevermind.’ 

Aziraphale looked at him, pouting a bit. Crowley snorted. For a while, they didn’t talk, emptying their respective glasses. Aziraphale sunk into the chair and closed his eyes. Crowley looked inside his glass, suddenly quite sombre. He cleared his throat, and after a while, he asked :

‘Are you… Are you sure you want to do it ?’

‘What ?’ asked Aziraphale groggily. 

‘You know, the… The body swap.’

Aziraphale opened his eyes and turned to his companion. 

‘Yes. I mean, that’s what Agnes said and Agnes…’

‘Yes, yes, I know. But are you really sure ? I mean, you’ll probably end up being dragged to Hell, you know, and…’

‘Yes, that’s the goal. What’s bothering you ?’

‘Well Hell – Hell – Hell isn’t a nice place.’ 

‘Obviously.’

‘I mean, they could hurt you.’ 

‘Oh.’ 

Silence fell for a while. Crowley coughed slightly. He poured himself some more scotch. Now that he had brought up the subject, he had to go on, Aziraphale was waiting, but how could he possibly say what he really wanted to say ? Suddenly, he was feeling ashamed, and scared. Aziraphale was poking the glass nervously with his forefinger, and one of his legs was trembling. He could tell Crowley had something on his mind. He wished he had something to say but he found himself speechless. He took a sip of scotch. 

‘I don’t want you to get hurt,’ Crowley mumbled eventually. 

Aziraphale immediately looked straight at Crowley, with an intensity and emotion the demon couldn’t deny, even if he was deleberately looking in the opposite direction. So that is what had taken him so long to say ? Aziraphale was expecting some terrible confessions, some dark secrets' revelation. But it was none of that. It was just Crowley being worried about him, as he did some many times in the past. This moved Aziraphale to the point he felt a lump in his throat, and his heart racing like a great fanfare. Because it wasn't just Crowley getting worried like many other times before. By saying this, Crowley was opening the field of deeper confessions. Or so Aziraphale hoped. Crowley fidgetted awkwardly, poured himself another scotch and turned his back to Aziraphale and leaned on his desk. Aziraphale swallowed, holding back some tears. 

‘Did they… Did they ever hurt you ?’ he asked softly after a while. 

Crowley didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t react at all. He kept drinking as if the angel hadn’t spoken at all. He could feel Aziraphale’s gaze on him, just like two burning points on his back. He breathed in deeply. 

‘Once or twice,’ he admitted. 

He lowered his head, looked inside his glass again. What was he looking for inside it ? Somewhere to escape, somewhere to dissolve to, to curl up and… He jumped when he felt Aziraphale’s hand on his. Shyly, he looked behind. 

Aziraphale was holding his hand, looking at him with the same intensity and emotion than before, with such intensity and emotion that Crowley felt like he was about to combust, to melt, and dissolve. 

Aziraphale managed to hold back his tears when Crowley looked back at him. Those eyes, those gorgeous, golden, sad eyes, sinking inside him to hold his heart, his soul. And his heart was pounding painfully against his ribs. How many times Crowley had come to save him through the centuries ? And he never, not even once, knew when _he_ was needing help ? How could he even forgive himself for that ? 

‘I’m sorry,’ Aziraphale whispered. ‘You’ve been there for me so many times. But I never…’

‘Oh, but you were there,’ Crowley replied, softly. ‘You are the only one who has always been there.’ 

This stroke Aziraphale through the heart. They looked down at their holding hands. They looked up. And in a heartbeat, they were in each other’s arms, and they kissed. They kissed softly, then passionately, quite unsteadily but with the desperate hunger of those who were keeping something for themselves for too long. The tears Aziraphale was holding finally went free, running down his cheek to their joined lips. He put a hand on Crowley’s face and his fingers met tears there too. It was bigger than any earthquake, any hurrican, any flood the Earth ever knew. Millenia of repressed feelings, of untold love and excruciating yearning were now exploding between them, in them, through them. 

When their mouths parted, they were both breathless. A glance at each other and they chuckled. Aziraphale sniffed. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and, he wiped his tears, blew his nose and miracled it clean before handing it to Crowley. The demon took it. 

‘Finally,’ he whispered, half laughing, half-crying, mopping his cheeks with the handkerchief. 

‘Finally.’ 

They glanced at each other and laughed. But the laugh died and turned into a strangled noise in Crowley's throat as he started sobbing again. Aziraphale put a friendly hand on his shoulder, carressing his cheek with his other. Crowley mumbled he was sorry. He had been waiting for so long, hiding it in the deepest depth of his heart, too afraid it would show, too afraid they would know, too afraid Aziraphale would… Yes, Aziraphale knew. Aziraphale knew, because he had felt it too, for so long. One day, they will have time to talk about all that. One day, all this holding, touching, kissing, would be familiar. But now, it all felt terrifying. But what truly mattered now was the night ahead, and all the day they'll have afterwards to make it safe. So, despite their shivers at every touch, at every glipse of brushed skin, they stayed in each other's arms, crying delightful tears, until all what was happening stopped to feel wrong and started feel right. Until they felt ready to end their embrace. 

‘So, ahem – I have a bedroom,’ Crowley mumbled after a while, blushing. 

Aziraphale's ears turned crimson. Crowley chuckled, wiping his last tears away. 

'I'm sorry if I'm going to fast for you, angel,' Crowley added, smiling to hide the disappointment that he felt was coming.

‘I’d love to see it,’ Aziraphale answered in a breath.

Crowley led the way. He opened a door and invited Aziraphale to come Inside. Crowley closed the door behind him and for one moment they stayed like that, awkward. Then Aziraphale cleared his throat and went to sit on the bed. Crowley watch and, embarrassed but trying to hide it, he came to sit next to him. They glanced at each other and laughed. 

'Take my hand,' Aziraphale whispered, offering it to Crowley. 

Crowley looked at it and took it slowly. Aziraphale noticed he was trembling and asked if he was afraid. 

'A little, yes.'

'So am I.'

They sat like that for a while, hand in hand, playing with each others fingers shyly. They laughed. Crowley commented on how stupid they must look, and Aziraphale smiled, answering they were Lucky no one was watching, then. Crowley said _Someone_ might actually been looking, though, and Aziraphale giggled, blushing. Their hands parted, and Aziraphale looked down. 

'What is it?' Crowley asked.

'It's just… I'm… Don't you fear that… I mean they could...'

Crowley hushed him. Aziraphale looked up. He saw in the demon's eyes the same fear as his, but also the same burning desire. _Desire is hunger_, he thought, _it's the fire I breathe._ Crowley moved a little and lied down a bit. 

'Come,' he said softly. 'Come under cover with me.'

There are no words to justly tell what happened then. One could compare it to the most heavenly fire, or to the most damnable bliss ; another could tell you it was like an explosion of light through darkness, or a burning comet falling through the atmosphere ; none of that would be close enough to what actually happened in that room, what it actually felt like. In one word, it was ineffable. 

Afterwards, they just snuggled quietly in Crowley’s bed. Aziraphale pressed his body on Crowley’s back, an arm wrapped around him to keep him close, their legs all tangled up. The heat of there naked body intertwined together felt like home. Aziraphale buried his nose just at the roots of Crowley’s hair on the back of his neck. With one hand, Crowley carressed Aziraphale’s arm slowly. 

‘They could come here any minute,’ he said after a while. 

‘Ssshhh,’ Aziraphale whispered, eyes closed. ‘I’m here, they can’t hurt you now. I won’t let them touch you.’

Crowley smiled, still carressing Aziraphale’s arm with his fingertips. 

‘I won’t let them touch you either,’ Crowley said, closing his eyes and adjusting his position a bit. 

Aziraphale hold him tighter. With a hand he had on Crowley’s chest, he could feel his heartbeat. He thought he had never felt safer, more blessed. 

Crowley started to feel sleepy. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually slept. And sleeping in his angel’s arms, that was so much above all the things he could have dreamed of. 

‘Pull me close,’ he whispered. 

Aziraphale complied, completely burying his face in Crowley’s hair. He wondered if Aziraphale could understand the way he felt in his hands. He groped around to find Aziraphale’s head behind him, and he stroke his hair. Aziraphale moaned, very softly, almost inaudibly, and Crowley knew the answer. Aziraphale could understand, because he felt the same in his hands. 

‘Do you think we should do it now,’ Aziraphale asked. ‘The body swap, I mean.’

‘No,’ Crowley replied. ‘They won’t come tonight.’

‘How can you be so sure ?’

‘Because the night belongs to us.’ 

Aziraphale smiled. Crowley was right. They wouldn’t come, they couldn’t touch them, they couldn’t hurt them now. The night belongs to lovers. To them. He kissed Crowley’s shoulder, sweetly, lovingly. Crowley shivered, ripples of pleasure going down his spine like shooting stars. _That is love_, he thought, _an angel desguised as lust_. He took Aziraphale’s hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss his palm. 

‘Let’s stay here, in our bed, until the morning comes,’ he whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3 
> 
> (I just wanted to say that even if I'm a huuuuuuuge Ineffable Husbands shipper, I'm generally not that much into the "and most importantly they fuck" thing, you know what I mean? I mean, my favourite headcanon is more that they're ace... Anyway, I followed the song, and I'm very happy with the result, I think it's kinda sweet? I mean, I hope?)


End file.
